I am so sorry to learn of Earl Scruggs' passing.
Feeling particularly blue this evening, I had just come downstairs to work on a hymn I've been trying to finish when I saw the update on Facebook. It prompted me to pull out some tunes and, in doing so, I realize that what I love about bluegrass and Southern gospel is that they make me feel both at home and homesick at the same time. That feeling drives my desire to sing, to make a song my home, to put that longing into music.
May I sing for you, Mr. Scruggs? I keep trying.
Oft I sing for my friends When death's cold hand I see But when I am called Who will sing one song for me I wonder who will sing for me When I'm called to the cross that silent sea Who will sing for me When friends have gathered 'round And look down on me Will they turn and walk away Or will they sing one song for me So I'll sing until the end And helpful try to be Assured that some friends Will sing one song for me
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